Haunting Whispers

by V. K. Powell

  Audrey grabbed Rae’s arm as she started to walk away. “This isn’t a joke, Rae. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t treat it like one.”

  “Is that what you think? That I’m making fun of you?”

  Audrey nodded.

  “Well, I’m not. I’m trying to accept this gift of yours. Besides, I like advance notice about danger. It could come in handy in my line of work. I’m not discounting your intuition, but you have to let me decide how it figures into my life. Risk is part of my job.”

  “Rae, this isn’t a hunch, it’s a warning. I’m almost certain that what happened tonight wasn’t random.” She couldn’t explain the strength of her knowing. To outsiders, it probably seemed like a woman’s hysteria for someone she cared about. Rae was too dedicated to stand down for even an overt threat, much less the perception of one.

  Rae pulled Audrey into a close hug. “I appreciate your insights. More than that, I believe them, but I’m not sure what I’m supposed to be afraid of. Is it something I’m working on, you, us? Can you be more specific?”

  “No,” Audrey mumbled into her chest.

  “Then you understand that I have no choice but to continue with my life…and I hope that will include you in some form.”

  “What if this is about me? What if it’s a warning for us to stay away from each other?”

  “Is that what you think or are you feeling emotionally vulnerable?”

  Audrey didn’t have the answer. Her feelings for Rae were untested. Possibly her defenses were simply clicking into place for her protection. She’d never dealt with her gift in the context of an intimate relationship. Perhaps two such intense sets of feelings would cancel each other out. If that was true, why did she have a sense of foreboding? “I’m not sure.”

  Rae tilted Audrey’s face and kissed her lightly. “Let me worry about the risk. And if you sense anything else, we’ll re-evaluate. Now, help me secure this window.”

  They closed the hole in the window with heavy plastic and carpet strips while Audrey reviewed their tacit agreement. This was one of the few times in life when her blasted gift would’ve actually been useful, but it seemed stuck in an emotional loop. At one end her growing feelings for Rae loomed, and an almost tangible fear of the unknown lurked on the other. If she could read Rae more clearly, perhaps she could make a more informed decision.

  Her mother had told her that reading loved ones was not only cheating but often times impossible. She reckoned it was the universe’s way of ensuring everyone experienced true love…even psychics. Right now it was just another obstacle.

  “Audrey, did you see something?” Rae stared at her, the green of her eyes almost black.

  “Nothing else. You’ll probably be safer when I’m gone. And I should be getting back. Cannonball will claw the stuffing out of my sofa if I’m much later. The little devil has started venturing out while I’m away.”

  Rae followed her to the door, disappointment obvious on her face. “I wish you’d stay…at least a bit longer. What if I have a concussion and need a nurse?”

  Audrey kissed her on the cheek, lingering momentarily to consider her options, and said, “Call an ambulance or go to the hospital. You’ll be fine.”

  “Will you come back tomorrow?”

  Audrey’s heart pounded at the suggestion. “To check on you?”

  “To spend time together.”

  “I thought psychics and police didn’t mix.”

  “There’s a first time for everything…tomorrow?”

  Audrey should’ve said no but heard herself reply, “Okay. I’ll bring lunch and that pesky kitten. She can shred your furniture for a while.”

  “Excellent.”

  Rae opened the door and Audrey stepped outside into the cool evening air. She immediately sensed something was wrong. The feeling wasn’t as strong as earlier, and as she walked toward Rae’s blue SUV parked in front of the condo, she understood why. The front and back tires were flat, with huge gashes in the tire walls. She walked to the other side and saw the same thing.

  “What the hell?” Rae almost came to attention and scanned the area like a sentry on duty.

  Though no longer visible, the culprit lurked close by. He wouldn’t reveal himself. Now Audrey understood. This person was very real, not a product of her conflicted emotions or imagination, not some malevolent energy in the universe. And he was fixated on her and those around her.

  “I can’t come over tomorrow, Rae. It’s too dangerous.”

  “But—”

  “I won’t do it.” She left Rae standing in the parking lot staring after her.

  Chapter Twelve

  The next morning Rae checked the area around her car for signs of the vandal. She didn’t find any indication he’d touched her car as he slashed the tires. He was certainly brazen. Light flooded the parking lot at night, and anyone who was looking could easily see an intruder. Usually no one was. People in the relatively safe neighborhood minded their own business.

  She moved to the back garden. The bloody rock used to assault her lay near the kitchen door. In the mushy ground around the side window, she saw two footprints that bore no distinguishing marks. She snapped a couple of quick photos of the window damage on her cell phone and texted them to her insurance agent. At the last minute she took one of the prints too. Might as well be thorough.

  While Rae waited for AAA to replace her slashed tires, she called the forensics weapons analyst on contract with the department. Barry Hewitt answered on the first ring.

  “Barry, it’s Rae Butler. I know it’s Saturday, but—”

  “You’ve got something that can’t wait, right?” Barry’s gruff tone belied the gentle giant who lurked beneath the surface. His stare alone was enough to quiet the most boisterous recruit in his forensics segment at the academy. He and Rae had a great working relationship based on dedication and a respectable dose of perfectionism.

  “Actually, no. I wanted to get on your schedule. I’d like you to look at some injury photos and see if you can narrow down the type of weapon. It doesn’t have to be today.”

  “I understand. Where are you? I can be there in fifteen minutes.”

  The light bulb went off in Rae’s head. “I’m at home…oh, I see. Susan has you looking at wallpaper and paint for the nursery renovation, doesn’t she?”

  “Exactly, see you there.”

  A few minutes later, Barry whipped into the parking lot like he’d been on a high-speed chase. “I’m glad you called,” he said as he lumbered to her door. Barry was over six feet tall with a hefty build that hadn’t seen much exercise. As he walked by her car, he looked at the tires then back at her.

  “Vandals,” she said in response to the implied question.

  “Case related?”

  “Nah, kids, I think.”

  “Sucks.”

  Cops had a way of saying exactly what needed to be said with the least amount of exertion. One word with the proper inflection, facial expression, or body twitch spoke volumes. Others often found the language clipped and abrasive. They understood each other perfectly.

  “Is Susan pissed?” Rae asked.

  “Yeah, she’ll get over it.” The cavalier attitude didn’t fool Rae. He adored his wife and went out of his way to give her everything she wanted. Indifference to emotions and all things domestic seemed a trademark of male cops, especially with each other. “What you got?”

  Rae led the way to her study and pointed to the wound photos tacked to her case board. “Four assaults, same suspect, occurred over a year’s time. The victims all survived.” Rae knew Barry preferred minimal details so no one else’s opinion would color his interpretation of the evidence.

  He studied the pictures for several minutes, took them off the board, and examined them with a magnifying glass. “Jesus, look at the haphazard slashing. I don’t see a pattern. All sharp-force injuries obviously ante-mortem. It’s always easier to make these determinations if death resulted. It diminishes the skin’s elasticity and
captures the weapon’s imprint in the flesh.”

  Rae cringed as Barry continued. “Incised wounds—as if someone drew the weapon across the skin in a parallel or tangential manner. Wound margins are sharp with no abrasions or contusions, which is unusual considering the wild cutting.”

  “What do you mean?” Rae wanted to understand every detail.

  “I would expect to see more physical contact with the body during the cutting. If he’s out of control, he’d normally bruise or tear it, maybe even stab it inadvertently.”

  “And what does that tell you?”

  “Well, I’m no shrink, but based on my experience with wounds, I’d say this guy is extremely controlled during these acts. At first glance, it appears he was in a fit of rage and cut randomly. On closer examination, I think he intended each cut exactly as you see it. If he ever loses control, it isn’t during the assaults. It’s almost like he’s sending a message.”

  “A message?” Rae was having trouble interpreting Barry’s information. A raging controlled maniac who slashed nonsensical patterns to send a message?

  “Your guess is as good as mine. He intentionally keeps the victims alive by controlling the depth of the cuts. He didn’t cause any major damage to the underlying muscle or organs. Is that right?” Rae nodded. “He must have at least a basic knowledge of anatomy, maybe more extensive.”

  “Some type of medical training. That would make sense, because he has to use something to initially incapacitate the victims in order to move them.”

  “Are the victims awake during this?” Barry asked.

  “How did you know?”

  “It fits the control-and-domination scenario. If you figure out what he’s trying to say with the cuts, I’ll bet it does as well.”

  The only message Rae could fathom was that some sick person got off torturing women and hearing them beg for mercy. The image turned her stomach as she envisioned their pain and terror. She maintained focus by believing she would find this man and put him away forever.

  “And the weapon?”

  Barry used the magnifying glass again. “The angles of entry are sharp, but smaller superficial, incised wounds extend from the larger ones in some areas.” He put the glass down, turned toward her, and nodded with satisfaction.

  “In English, please, Barry.”

  “He most likely used an extremely sharp knife with a serrated edge, which I find interesting.”

  “Why?”

  “He’s obviously very skillful because serrated edges often rip instead of cutting cleanly.”

  Audrey’s words flashed through Rae’s mind: She was cut, probably with a very specific type of knife. “Not a scalpel?”

  “Definitely not. The smaller parallel wounds are specific to a serrated edge. Anything else?” Barry walked toward the front door.

  “That’s it, thanks a lot.”

  “No problem. Guess I better get back before the wife sends out a search party. Good luck with this one. You’ll need it. He won’t make many mistakes.”

  Many? Rae would settle for one. She had nothing except a psychic’s prediction that the suspect had used a knife and a weapons expert’s confirmation. Not exactly the kind of evidence one took into a court of law—at least not the former.

  Rae had a nagging curiosity about the extent of Audrey’s abilities. She couldn’t actually use her in the investigation, but she could test her skills to see where they led. If Audrey unearthed anything interesting, she’d do the requisite legwork and convert the details into a valid clue. Would she be using Audrey? She wasn’t totally convinced the whole psychic thing was on the up-and-up, but she wanted to believe in Audrey—to trust her.

  She picked up her cell to phone Audrey and remembered their exchange from the night before. Audrey had seemed determined not to have contact, certain Rae was in danger because of her. Had Audrey seen something or was she still holding back? As much as she wanted to make that call, Rae placed the phone back on the counter. She’d taken a giant leap of faith by accepting Audrey’s psychic ability. If they were to trust each other, they’d have to meet at least halfway. It was Audrey’s move.

  *

  Audrey woke to the screechy scratching of sharp little claws on Sheetrock. “Cannonball, stop that. You’ll get us evicted.” Her new pet had been trying to climb the walls recently and leaving behind unmistakable evidence. The hallway between the bedroom, living area, and bathroom looked like a tree trunk with claw marks as far up as her short legs could reach. Audrey didn’t understand the recent urge to score and claim her territory, but so far CB had limited her activities to the hall and the furniture.

  When she got Cannonball, she had jumped, rolled, and swatted playfully. Maybe her bundle of joy wasn’t quite as happy in her new surroundings as Audrey thought. The wall etchings and hole digging in her sofa had developed recently. She seemed to become progressively more anxious, her behavior indicating discomfort or irritation.

  Maybe the cat picked up on Audrey’s disturbing psychic energy. Animals were very attuned to their owner’s moods and feelings. Audrey vowed to be more calm and affectionate with CB because she refused to give her back to Yasi. After only a few days, she couldn’t imagine her life without the wiry-haired vixen.

  “Cannonball, come here.” Miraculously the kitten stopped scratching and looked from Audrey to the wall as if trying to decide which she preferred. She bounded onto the foot of the bed, climbed Audrey’s body, and settled on her chest. Her mismatched eyes seemed to convey conflicting messages—the green one suspicion and the yellow mischief. “What’s going on with you?” Audrey stroked the kitten’s back and heard a contented purr. “I wish you could tell me.”

  Audrey settled into a semi-slumber, stroking CB and enjoying her appreciative whirrs. When she touched Cannonball and listened to her satisfied purring, Audrey could block out the invading sensations of the outside world. She was a true gift, and Audrey silently thanked Yasi again for her thoughtfulness.

  Suddenly the old apartment building groaned with a loud settling creak and Cannonball projected herself off the bed and into the hallway. She clawed the walls again and looked back toward Audrey as if asking for help.

  “Settle down, darling. It’s this place. It makes noises. Come with me. We’ll do our faux paper fetch.” The only time Audrey wished CB was a dog was when she wanted the morning paper brought to her bedside. Still, even that wasn’t enough to make her trade her newfound gem of a pet. She loved cats, and once a cat person, always a cat person.

  Audrey opened the front door and looked out on the courtyard surrounded by small single-story apartments. The beautifully manicured garden with its variety of plants and flowers had drawn her when house hunting. Unlike most apartment complexes, this one provided parking spaces in the back and this scenic view of nature out front. The comforting setting had immediately won her over. She inhaled the fresh morning air and retrieved the newspaper. CB scurried past and dipped her front paws in the dew before running back inside.

  Audrey made a cup of coffee and settled on the sofa with the newspaper and CB. When she opened the paper, a sheet of folded white stock fell onto her lap. She started to put it in the discard pile, but noticed the bold type: Stay away from the cop or face the consequences.

  Dark, threatening sensations pricked her fingertips and crawled up her arms into her chest. She dropped the note like it was hot metal and watched it flutter to the floor in slow motion. Cannonball leapt off the sofa and into her cage. It was him.

  She felt his presence as clearly and coldly as she had last night at Rae’s condo. Audrey focused all her energy, trying to draw him to her so she could picture his face or place their connection. She picked up the note, hoping for another flash. Usually touching something a subject had handled would give her an image. This man was different. He seemed to understand her gift and purposely blocked or avoided it.

  “Where are you? Why won’t you show yourself? What do you want?” In response to her frustrated questions another
settling moan came from deep in the building’s framework. She wanted to run as the sound blanketed her like an oppressive odor. The walls suddenly felt confining, the noises hostile. Her homey apartment had become uncomfortable and unsafe.

  Audrey left the house in minutes, Cannonball in one hand and the note in the other. As she drove out of the complex, she tried to decide where to go. She wanted to see Rae, but the note was specific. Her hunch from last night had become more concrete. Rae had the right to know she was in danger. Shouldn’t she have the chance to find out who was threatening them both? Audrey struggled with the decision, trying to separate her selfish needs from her responsibility. Maybe for once desire and need could serve the same master.

  She timidly knocked on Rae’s door, unsure of her reception. Rae valued stability, not the capriciousness that surrounded Audrey. Even she often found the fluctuations of emotion and energy in her life hard to handle. How could she expect someone as grounded as Rae to understand and accept her? Last night she’d been adamant that they not see each other, yet here she was less than twelve hours later.

  When Rae opened the door, she didn’t seem surprised. She took Cannonball, stuffed her inside her worn sweatshirt, and waved Audrey in.

  “Coffee?”

  “Please.” Audrey looked at the newspaper scattered across the settee and the substantial coffee cup on the end table. It felt so welcoming. “Is it okay that I’m here? I know I said that—”

  “I was hoping you’d come.” Rae handed her a cup of coffee and they settled on the sofa. Cannonball peeked out of the collar of Rae’s sweatshirt, then scampered onto Audrey’s lap. “You’re upset. What’s happened?”

  Audrey caught her breath. Rae’s eyes never left hers, which distracted her. “I’m not used to this…someone reading me for a change.”

  “Then I’m right?”

  Audrey nodded.

  “It’s nice to know my intuition still works. It can seem invasive or intimate, depending on who’s doing it, don’t you think?”